Under Cover, Hide Away
by tardisblues
Summary: Now, there was nothing.Nothing, save for confusion and despair and heartache.


**A/N: **So I might also be completely in love with Asami Sato - and have been since her character art was released, but I don't want to sound all uppity and elitist even though I probably just did. Still pressed that there's not an official character tag for her, by the way. Anyway, I love that we finally got some solid character development from her. In celebration, I wrote this angsty drabble. Enjoy!

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In the darkness, her eyes searched for cracks in the ceiling, for any sign of a splinter, a fracture, but there were none to be found. She pushed down and bottled up the sigh that threatened to escape just as she had been pushing down and bottling up everything else: her tears, her frustration. The only thing she let herself experience was resignation, but even then the cogs in her mind wouldn't stop turning; her stomach didn't stop lurching when she thought about what her father had done, what she had done.

Grimacing, Asami rolled onto her side, shoving a crooked arm underneath the pillow for extra support, but finding no comfort. Moonlight streamed through the open window, making twisted shadows of the plants that sat on the table just below the sill. There was nothing all too fascinating about them yet she couldn't tear her eyes away. Her gaze narrowed as she tried her best to find the lightness in all of the dark.

If it was there, it was indistinguishable from the rest.

Her mouth twitched and the corner of her eye stung, and she bit her lip, pushing it down. She pushed it deep down and away from her, doing all she could to distance herself from her feelings. Over the last two weeks she had become an expert at removing her emotions from the equation. Before they were the source of her every action, the motivation behind every decision. Now she could hardly care less.

Except that wasn't true.

That wasn't true at all.

The fact was that she cared too much. The fact was she was worried about what she was becoming, not quite a hollow shell but a being devoid of any purpose at all. The fact was that no matter how fervently she pushed them away, no matter how hard she forced them down, there was no way to completely separate herself from her emotions because eventually, they always resurfaced. One way or another they crept up upon her, gaining an inch with every passing hour of the day until finally, at night, when she lay in her bed, all she could do was stare up at the ceiling and wish for it to collapse upon her, for that was certainly what felt like was happening.

Everything she had known, the people she had held dear – it was a sham. There was a crack right down the center of her life and she was tipped precariously over the edge, her arms thrown out in an attempt to regain balance, but her head was too dizzy. Just when she thought she found her footing something would upset it, kicking at her knees until her legs were trembling so much, it was difficult to stand. But just when she thought she would fall, there was someone there for her – Tenzin, Bolin, Pema, Mako.

Korra.

Asami squeezed her eyes shut tightly at the thought of the young Avatar. She knew she should be grateful – and she was: Korra had opened her eyes to the truth and had taken her in when her entire world had shattered, raining shards down upon her. For that Asami would never be able to thank Korra enough and yet - yet she couldn't help the overwhelming resentment that weighed down upon her whenever she thought back to that night.

If Korra hadn't meddled in her father's business. If she wasn't so obstinate and pigheaded and nosy maybe –

"No," Asami whispered to the darkness.

As much as she wanted to blame Korra for the upheaval of her life, she couldn't. This wasn't Korra's fault just like it wasn't her fault. A part of her, the whimsical part, wished that things had remained as they were, that she was still blissfully ignorant of her father's betrayal. It was foolish and childish, yes, but at least she would still have control – or at least some semblance of it. It might have been a lie, an illusion, but at least it was there.

Now, there was nothing.

Nothing, save for confusion and despair and heartache.

Tightening her fist around the blankets, Asami narrowed her gaze at the shadows splayed across the floor, trying her hardest to reconcile their seemingly infinite darkness by finding the lightest part of it, the highlight.

If it was there, she couldn't see it amongst the black.

She frowned and turned onto her back, resolving herself to yet another sleepless night.


End file.
